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Caution: Post contains sexual language and content.

It was a time when action had made its entry and was lapped up by one and all. The anger of the masses during the emergency, the entry of a Congress alternative for the first time at the helm of politics - the Janata Party and its subsequent fall out and the return of Indira Gandhi as our PM, the Naxalite movement, the unrest in Bengal, there was anger and it was yet to die down - this could be that one reason why everyone wanted to see someone beaten up. As long it wasn’t them, it was fun.

The degeneration of politics was on, and moving forward in top gear. Pranab Mukherjee, the then Minister of Economy, would come in each year to present the budget, with his trademark pipe sticking out from the corner …

Warning: Post contains sexual language and content

If Jeetendra was at the helm of starting the 80s fire of cinematic depression, it were people like Mehul Kumar, Eesmayel Shroff, Pranlal Mehta, Mithun Chakraborthy and many others of the wonderful PKTK club, who willingly or unwillingly put ghee in the fire thereby increasing the depression to many many more years. But in ‘86 they would be joined by a kid, who God put in Viraar, hidden away from the PKTK club (Public Ko Torture Karo club)… for God knew, however talented the kid be, he had the power to turn PKTK’s fire of depression into a firestorm. Alas God could not keep him away from the evil eyes of PKTK.

They found him. Govinda had been doing the rounds of various producers in an attempt to start his filmi career and in …

They were the dark ages. Shockingly after an amazing 70s. Creativity was the last thing on everyones mind. No one cared. Hindi cinema was treated as a prostitute by those who had come in to make money. And that was their only objective. Dish out a 3 hour film to make money. Video had made it’s foray into India and almost overnight - video became the villain of the film industry. Video was made out to be the cause on why the Hindi film industry was suffering. Of course it was true, to an extent. Yet if one compares the number of illegal downloads of a new movie on the very Friday of it’s release, the video days look like a God’s gift to the film industry. The problem lay elsewhere…

The middle class had moved out of the …

Warning: Post contains strong language & sexual content.

Alcohol. Perhaps it was the same destination of the 80s producers. And many many financiers of those darn 80s and 90s. On one hand, from a different point of view, I feel pity. These producers sold everything they had, borrowed as much as they could, pawned their wife’s jewelry (case in point: N.Chandra for Ankush), begged at the feet of the then stars… to give them the required dates before the dawn of utter ruin, beat every door they could… to achieve their goal… make a movie.

And yet, all this went into the belief that the films (which were a 100% purified trash) would find the success and give them a decent bank and black balance. Then you realize that making a film for all these (or most of these) …

Warning: Post contains strong language and sexual content.

Imagine, me entering my hitlerian Dad’s room. Imagine me asking for his permission to go out and see a movie called Bhavani Junction. Then imagine Pitashree’s right hand moving in slow motion, big tight palms connecting to my left cheek sending me flying out of his room in slo mo. Had that incident happened, I would never have dug deep into Bollywood films, never have the desire to blog and never would have reviewed any movie in my life.

All you new age Bollywood hating blogging punkers, just imagine that. HA! That incident never happened. I simply picked up my books to go to tution class and instead was standing in line to buy the ticket of Bhavani Junction at Mayur Cinema close to my house.

Now Mayur Cinema, and I’m not sure if it exists …

Warning: Strong Language and Sexual Content. It was 1985. Indira Gandhi had been assassinated about a year ago. I was consistently in a state of depression. No not because of the tragic demise of Mrs. Gandhi, but because of some kind of chemical locha in my head. Unfortunately Munnabhai had not yet come alive. He would 20 years later. That year, Sanjay Dutt had just returned from the US (I think) after his long haitus, getting himself treated in the US of A to get rid of his drug problem.

Producers were a little apprehensive, as Dutt sat at home twiddling his thumbs waiting for a project. And while he did that, I had realized that there was too much pressure on me. It was my 10th grade. SSC to be precise. The dreaded “Board exams” - to push it down the …

It’s out of control. Everyone is on the streets waving their laptops and desktops, furiously typing in their next blog to kick ass. Every Friday with every new movie. It’s as if all the frustrations and anger and whatever acid they pour in their morning cup of tea, coffee or brewery - all of it comes out in a yellowish to red puke form on the reviews of the latest movie.

I tell ya. It’s out of control. Bloggers? HA! My foot!!! What do these itsy bitsy tiny minnows know about bad movies? These post Gen X midgets who call themselves film fanatics… what do they know about bad movies and the horrendous torture? They can’t suffer more than 20 minutes into a movie and are writing their next blog over Old Monk and coke with spicy seeng-dana even before the movie inside has …